


Three in the Morning

by alycakeisdelish



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-03 23:38:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17293487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alycakeisdelish/pseuds/alycakeisdelish
Summary: A warlock comes looking for solace, and her companion gives it without questions.





	Three in the Morning

The cabin door creaked as it cracked open, one fel-green eye, squinted with suspicion on the other side, gazed out into the darkness of Eversong Woods. The small magical lamp burning just outside her door illuminated the visage of a familiar face. If the shadowed, sleepy eyes hadn’t given her away, the frizzy curls of inky unkempt hair would have. “Lorisia, it’s three in the morning,” Amoralynn stated, her own voice gruff with sleep, but the time didn’t stop her from letting the door swing open fully as she leaned against the side, giving ample room for the other woman to trudge over the threshold. The door closed them inside the modest cabin with a click, and the warlock made a beeline for the padded window seat, practically falling into it with a ‘fwumph’, arms falling out beside her. Still fully dressed in her favorite blacks and dark purples, it was clear to the paladin that her friend had not yet seen the inside of a bed, which was not unusual; what was unusual was that she had shown up at her door at an ungodly hour. Lorisia had only been to her home a select few times before, usually only for work. This was not work-related, but the paladin needed no explanation. 

Giving her vibrant, bed-messy curls a scratch, she moved into the one doorway that led into the only other room in the home. Returning with a quilt folded over one arm, and a white shawl draped across her bare shoulders, having only been dressed in a simple blue nightgown. _“Your house is a dump. Have I ever told you that?”_ The warlock’s tired voice was the only inclination that she was still alive, having not moved an inch. The paladin tossed the quilt over the other woman’s prone body, eyes rolling; “Only every time you’ve come over.” Amoralynn moved toward the rustic fireplace on the opposite side of the window, tossing a dried log onto the orange coals. A grunt was the only response she received back. Curiosity tugged at the red-head as she shuffled about her home, walking to the kitchen and beginning to pull out the tools to fashion some tea. Despite her usual, no fucks given attitude toward bullying others into answering questions, she didn’t pry. Instead, as the water began to boil she turned to look over her shoulder, “I grew up in this dump, you know. It was a palace when I was a child.” A few chuffles, that almost sounded like laughter responded and Amoralynn could only smile, silver tinkling against porcelain as she stirred a few pinches of powder, and a spoonful and a half of honey into the brew. Setting the obviously worn, but delicate cup on a saucer she paused, tapping her manicured nails on the countertop before reaching over to pluck the top off a jar. Using bare fingers she plucked a dash of sugar and added it to the cup as well, just in case, before balancing the entire ensemble into her palm. 

“One day I’ll be able to leave. Sit up.” The paladin nudged the warlock with her foot as she approached once more, and with a begrudging groan, the other woman obeyed, leaning back heavily with a look that could almost be called a pout. Shoving the cup and saucer at her, Amoralynn gave a firm look that offered no compromise, “Drink.” It was the commanding voice that she used on other paladins, and anyone else she was attempting to control, though, in this situation, it was only good for letting Lorisia know that there would be no arguments. Generally, there was any way, as the two butt heads almost as often as they came together to be a team, but this time, the other woman yielded and took the cup, obediently beginning to down the concoction. With a sigh, Amoralynn plopped herself down onto the window seat, pulling part of the quilt over her legs, and her shawl more firmly about her shoulders, sitting in silence. With childlike indignance, the warlock handed over an empty cup after a few long moments, and the paladin set it on the window sill. Without a word, the red-head wrapped her arm around the other woman’s shoulders and hugged her close. Lorisia’s head fell heavily against her chest, and with her free hand, Amoralynn soothed down some of the crazy black curls. 

_“I’m tired.”_

“You’re always tired.”

At one point in time, Amoralynn might have told the warlock to simply sleep. It tended to be the one key to exhaustion, but it was more than that, and now she knew better. Telling Lorisia to just go to sleep was like telling the rain to just fall, or spring to just come; it was not something that happened without time, and coaxing. Tugging the quilt over them both, the paladin simply let the time pass. The sky was just beginning to turn when the warlock grew limp, and with her one free hand, the red-head reached up to close the curtains behind them more firmly. Yawning, she resigned herself to sleep as well, and before she could ponder leaving the other woman and returning to bed, it hit her like a brick wall, and she was out as well.


End file.
